


Toss A Coin To Your Winter

by groffiction



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Witcher (TV), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And protect his sassy ass, Angst, Bard Tony, Basically Tony loves seeing his boys battle the bad guys, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Inspired by The Witcher, M/M, Mage Bounty Hunter Steve, Monster hunt erotica, Or Donkey is to Shrek at first, Throw in Steve and we have got ourselves a medieval crack ship party, Tony is to Bucky like Jaskier is to Geralt, Very Minor Character Death, Witcher Bucky, more tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groffiction/pseuds/groffiction
Summary: Starklands is under attack by Hydra forces, and Mage Bounty Hunter Steve is employed to find the Witcher Bucky and kill him, and also find a lost prince Anthony who is in hiding. However, Destiny likes to play tricks, and Steve also gets employed by someone else to find Anthony and make sure he's safe and protected, and give him to Bucky instead.Clueless of all this, in a small town, Bucky meets Tony the Bard, an annoying but endearing creature who has more sass than anyone he's ever met.Stuckony The Witcher AU Dumpster Fire
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, stuckony
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	Toss A Coin To Your Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Yea, got totally hooked on the Witcher Netflix series and couldn't help seeing similarities of Bucky and Geralt, and Tony and Jaskier. So... of course I couldn't help making yet another au. Hope y'all enjoy. :)

1.

Bucky let out a resigned sigh as he rode into the small town on the outskirts of Starklands known as Triskelion, reigns still firmly held in one hand, and the other hand braced on the base of the hilt of one of his swords. He was tired and weary from his travels, and with a wrinkle in his nose, the Witcher figured he seriously needed one hell of a bath. Mud was caked in his long salt and pepper brunette hair, and his black clothing had long lost the shade of black under all the filth. Unnaturally vivid cat like blue eyes narrowed as he took in the sight and sounds of humans as they scurried about in the evening dusk, probably making haste to get everything done before the darkness blanketed the town in black.

Long hooded travel cloak covered most of his visage from the villagers, but suspicion and primal natural instincts of the humans led them to give him and his dark steed named Bear a wider berth than normal. With Hydra making havoc and war to the lands to the east, it was no wonder that the humans were wary. Well, more on edge than normal. Humans feared his kind or anything different from themselves, but now they had bigger problems they were facing.

Hydra’s forces were on Starklands’ doorstep. It was only a matter of time before a siege would be underway. 

In truth, Bucky would bypass human settlements like this altogether, for he had enough food, water, and supplies for another few weeks on the road, but he had seen flyers around asking for assistance in tracking down a monster. So, here he was, tired, filthy, but willing. It was too late in the evening to contact the man or woman who needed the monster killed, so he would take rest at the only inn if there was vacancy, and deal with them in the morning.

### 

King Howard Stark, benevolent but strict and harsh ruler, sat at his wife’s side, holding her hand as she breathed the last few breaths of her life. War was coming, the king knew, and soon it wouldn’t be safe for his hidden son to be where he was now. He knew the Witcher would be coming soon to claim his prize, and though the king didn’t want that foul creature anywhere near his son, perhaps it was time to let Destiny decide Anthony’s fate. One day his son would know the truth and perhaps come back to take his rightful throne once he was ready, but for now things would have to be put in motion to keep Anthony safe and away from war. Hydra would not stop until they found him. But at least Stark could give his son some time before he was found. 

As his wife died not a moment later, Stark hardened his heart and kept his grief from his face, knowing that there wasn’t time to grieve. It was a small mercy that his wife died before Hydra struck. Before she found out the true reason why they were there. Or the fact that the son she had thought had died as a child was still alive. The king stood and motioned to his loyal mage. “Jarvis. I need you to do one last thing for me before my kingdom is overrun.”

“Yes, sir. What is it that you require, my liege?” The faithful mage asked, trying to keep his own face devoid of the warring emotions inside his timeless but weathered face. Maria had been a good, if frivolous Queen. She would be missed.

The king gave Jarvis a sealed letter, one that he had been saving until the time was right for Anthony to find out his lineage. “Find my son Anthony, keep him safe, and when the time is right and he is ready, give this to him. The time has come for him to meet his Destiny and follow it. If you can send someone you trust to find the Witcher, Winter or Bucky of Shield, do so. Otherwise, let Destiny lead him to my son.”

“Of course, sir. I have just the mage in mind to help find the Witcher. And if he cannot find the Witcher, no one can.”

### 

Alexander Pierce, high mage of Hydra gave the mercenary mage in front of him a narrowed glance. “I have cause to believe that Stark hid his son somewhere away from the castle. We will still storm the keep and take over the idiot’s lands, but we are no closer to finding his son. I have heard that you have the gift of finding pretty much anyone and killing them for a price.”

“You want me to kill the hidden prince?” Steve asked, feeling a bit bored. He hated the petty squabbles that came from power hungry people. The mage also despised war, but knew that sometimes war was inevitable. Soon Hydra would spread their hatred and evilness throughout all the lands.

But, it’s not like he was an army who could fight against these people. He usually played it safe staying away from such politics and made his living by being a mercenary away from the central Avenger coven. As long as he stayed under the scope of Fury’s internal sight, then he wouldn’t be bothered and could do what he wished within reason. Freedom to do what he wanted without restrictions was a pretty nice goal to have.

But he hated bullies. And Alexander Pierce was a big one. 

Still, he had been curious when the high mage of Hydra had came out to offer him a commission. 

Now, though, he was wondering if he should have just teleported somewhere else to avoid the mage’s calling. 

Pierce shook his head and smirked a bit. “No, we definitely don’t want to harm Stark’s son. We want him alive. The world depends on that son. No, what I want you to do for me is to find a Witcher… kill him, and then find the prince and bring him here. That’s all.”

“A Witcher?” Steve narrowed his eyes, taking interest. Straightening his frame, black mage clothes rustling a bit at the act, the blue eyed, blonde haired mercenary murmured softly, “I am listening.”

### 

Tony the Bard, lute tied to his back, whistled a merry tune as he walked down the cobble stoned street towards the nearest pub of Triskelion, spirits higher than usual. He had heard the rumors, and if said rumors were to be true, then there would be a Witcher to see, and perhaps meet? Tony was never a fan of life threatening danger, but danger often found him, so if the Witcher was amiable enough, perhaps he could befriend the man and hire a protector for his adventures. Ah, if he were to have a Witcher as a friend, he could see in his mind's eye the endless appeal of being able to write down stories of adventures, glory, and riches lining Tony’s pockets in gold.

Wouldn’t that be nice - of course that would be the honey on a sticky bun. 

Tony, however foolish he may look, or what songs he sung, was definitely not one. 

It was foolish to dream of grandeur and wealth, being able to be a nobleman rather than a traveling Bard. It was, however, not foolish to see possibilities. He was no clairvoyant, to be sure, but he did see opportunity when Destiny placed it at his feet. 

Plus, he was downright _bored_.

He’d been in town for nigh a week, and he’d already seen the only town’s brothel, got himself kicked out on his arse from the inn, and nearly punched in the face by one very angry blacksmith (who was supposedly protecting his daughter’s virtue - hah, that ship had sailed, sunken into the bottom of the deepest ocean a long time ago if the stories were true). So, with nothing more to do besides settle in the pub for some coin, maybe even a few crusts of bread or at least a mug of beer, the Bard grew interested at the rumors flying of the Witcher being in town.

Witchers were illusive feared folk, monster hunters the lot of them, and Tony had not yet met one before in his twenty seven years on this earth. And he definitely could use some adventures to spicen his life up a bit right about now, even if that meant he had to deal with possible maiming, torture, or otherwise ghastly life ending dangers. Then again, it’s not like he had much of a choice in the matter. 

Tugging his once fine jacket more close to his frame against the evening’s chill, the Bard looked over his shoulder before hastening his pace to the pub. 

Once inside, wrinkling his nose a bit at the smell of sour beer and ale, Tony shrugged and made his way through the masses to a secluded abandoned spot on the other side of the pub. There he took up residence and pulled his lute out, absently tuning and plucking the strings tenderly. The pub was busy tonight, with various travelers stopping in for a warm meal and mug of ale or beer, intermixed along the townsfolk. Tony’s stomach rumbled but he ignored it, knowing that although he had hit rock bottom in his pockets, he would not lower himself to steal, and nor would he be lazy in trying to get free handouts from the various patrons. 

Tony prided himself of having a good singing voice and perhaps too much witt that often got him into trouble, so he was amiable to the crowds and began stringing up a lively tune, eyes searching the whole room for the Witcher. Hell, even if Tony had not ever seen a Witcher before with his own two eyes, he knew what to look for. Everyone did. Catlike eyes that glittered unnaturally in the dark, silver pendant around the creatures’ necks designating which school they had come from, long hair that seemed unnaturally sprinkled with white yet framing a timeless youthful face. So, when Tony’s soft brown eyes landed on a cloaked figure smoking from a pipe on the other side of the room by himself, catlike blue eyes flickering in the candle light, the Bard nearly skipped a line from his song.

If there were indeed truth in the Goddess’s bow and arrows, then Tony would have an arrow struck through his heart and soul, for the man ensnared him - put him under some sort of unknown spell just by the look of those haunted, yet beautiful blue eyes. Tony had never felt such a shock to his system, and he felt a pull to the Witcher like no other. Tony kept the man’s gaze for a long minute, even after his voice faded into nothing as his song ended. 

The Witcher slowly inhaled from the pipe and blew out smoke from his nostrils like a dormant, yet watchful dragon. 

Tony swallowed carefully and absently picked up a few coins that had been thrown his way, breaking eye contact regrettably. When he looked up again, the Witcher was looking elsewhere in the pub, idly sipping from his mug of ale. The spell had not been broken - or at least not by Tony. It might be lessened, much like a deer finding a hunter, and the hunter deciding not to kill it, making the deer more wary of the hunter in the process. The Bard, all thought of singing for the rest of the evening dashed, decided he wanted a closer look.

Not thinking things through, Tony made his way over to the Witcher’s table, pulled up a chair, and sat down with a soft huff. The Witcher’s eyes were now on him, slightly puzzled, but no less intelligent. It was the type of look a wolf gave a sheep when they came up to them for a nuzzle. Tony nearly backpedaled, but then finally blurted out, “What brings a drop dead gorgeous Witcher here to the saddest pathetic town in all of Starklands?”

Yea, that definitely could have gone better.


End file.
